La petite mort pour deux
by thepurplequill
Summary: Marcia Overstrand has an unwanted and dangerous visitor in her apartment, who submits her the most illogical proposal she has ever heard of. One Shot about a requested pairing. Warning: explicite content, has more of a 18 (P18) rating according to guidelines.


_This One Shot is for divinumstellata from Tumblr_ _who requested a FanFic with a very... special pairing, probably because someone*cough* wanted to see me cry or something like that. :D No, just kidding, I have no idea why I got this request, but I do had fun writing this One Shot and yeah... This is the first requested FanFic, and it is also one of three with sexual content. One is more sensual, one is more clumsy (I simply love that kind of sex), and this one is more a FanFiction cliché, but I had no idea what to do with this pairing without going too much OoC, and how to write it without wanting to bang my head against the wall constantly. :D The other five are all sex free, so if you are more into this kind of FanFictions, check them out as soon as they are online! (Tag on my Tumblr: requested FFs). But I hope you enjoy reading this One Shot as much as I enjoyed writing it. 3  
_

 _ **La petit mort pour deux**_

"You are at the tip of my blade... You better tell me who you are and what you want here right now or I'll cut your throat." Her chest lifts and lowers fast, and he can sense her anxiety, her discontent over this situation and her confusion.

The quite handsome man licks his lips. "I do not fear you."

"You should!", she hisses and taps the sensible skin of his neck with the sword. "Do not think I will not kill you, although it goes against my principles. Before you can harm my people, I will harm you. Explain yourself! Who are you, and what do you want here?"

"You never hurt someone, not even in situations in which others are in great danger. I know you, Marcia Overstrand. Oh yes, I know you." The man grins, and it is one of those grins that makes you want to draw back, but the woman does not move.

Actually, her pure green eyes stare at him, it seems like she never blinks or has to look away at least once. "I killed in the past and I will do it again if I have to. The last one was an Assassin, I do not regret it."

"How was it?", he asks with a low voice. "What did you feel while ending this life?"

"Nothing.", she replies and he sees how she lowers the sword a bit, she seems to be distracted.

"No lust? No pleasure? Not a great feeling of satisfaction because the person deserved it?" He is truly curious.

The woman frowns at him. "I was busy with saving six lives, it was necessary."

"Ah, a saint we have here.", he says and looks into the distance nearly dreamy. "An angel. Actually, a very beautiful angel, if I am allowed to say."

"Your words mean nothing to me. Now I will ask you one last time: Who are you, and what do you want here?" He feels the sharp tip against his throat again.

"Guess.", he replies. "Play this little game with me and you will get your answer."

"I do not have time for this.", she shouts and in her left hand burns a small fire. Things are getting interesting.

He nods as good as it is possible with a sword near your neck. "Well, well, but isn't there a certain curiosity all women and wizards have? If you kill me right now and do not play the game with me, you will ask yourself who I was forever."

For a few minutes, no one says a word and they only stare at each other. There is a taut crackle between them, she can feel it although she cannot tell if it goes in a more positive or negative direction. He is right, she certainly would ask herself who he was if he lay there dead in front of her feet, with her question unanswered in the room.

"You are a black mage.", she whispers, concentrating on him and the aura that surrounds him. "And there is something... timeless about you. As if you do not belong here, into this time. You probably have seen a lot of bad things, but nevertheless, you seem to have done the double amount of bad things yourself, whatever they might have been. Murder, maybe. Everything that I can feel disgusts me in so many ways and leads me to the conclusion that I should kill you immediately, or at least arrest you in prison number one." Pure hate heats up inside of her. It is the same feeling she had when she faced Dom Daniel on his ship, all those years ago. But she remembers the smell of the dark arts, the black aura that she felt whenever she had been near him, as well as the pure lust and hunger for power. There is no chance that she will let him go, rather she will spill blood on the floor of her apartment. It will look good next to the spot where the skeleton came to its end.

"You are intelligent if I may mention it.", he answers with a grin, a disgusting handsome grin. "Beautiful and intelligent, what a rare combination."

"Choke on your honeyed words.", she hisses and spits on the ground next to him. Usually, she is able to keep a cool head in most situations, but the hate... it clouds her ability to handle this situation appropriately.

"If spitting is the only thing you can do to me, then congratulations...", he says, still with this terrible grin in his face. "You are pretty pathetic."

"It occurs to me that you have a death wish.", she answers coldly and presses the tip of the sword deep enough into his neck that he gasps and that blood starts running down his skin.

Suddenly she shows her deadly potential. Of course, she hurts him physically right now, but psychically it turns him on a bit. "Do you feel it now?", he whispers and lies down to escape the pain of the sword. "The lust? The rush? The satisfaction? Or something else?"

"All I feel is hate. No satisfaction, no lust, no exhilaration." In her eyes burns a fire and he shudders under her cold expression.

Again they stare at each other in silence, as if they try to find out who is the prey and who is the predator. It is her who has him at the tip of her blade, he definitely is in an inferior position, but on the other hand, he hunts her with his words, controls her in a way.

"Have you already decided if you will kill me or not?", he asks with a bored voice and sits up to be able to see her better.

Although she holds the sword for a pretty long time in the same position now, her hand does not shake and neither does her voice as she answers him. "I do not see another way out."

"But why are you waiting then? Do it and let me feel your hate."

Actually, she has no idea for what she is waiting. Maybe for someone who tells her that it is necessary and that she does the right thing. Maybe she waits because she cannot believe that it is it. She found him in her apartment with the sword, she fought him, won the sword back and started intimidating him with it. And now she will end his life? Of course she should, she knows it, but something inside of her tells her that there is more to his sudden appearance. Something that she has to sort out, because it could be important.

"Why are you here?", she asks and makes a small step forward. "You told me you are only interested into this sword, but it is a lie, I can see it now."

"Well spotted.", he replies with a soft voice. "I am here to loot, to ruin, to destroy, to kill. I am here because I have the intention to take over the Wizard Tower, to gain the amulet back, since it is mine."

"The amulet is not yours. I am the rightful 776th ExtraOrdinary Wizard and my apprentice will be the rightful 777th one. Alther never had an apprentice besides Silas Heap and me, and he was the rightful 775th one. I do not know from which time you are, but whoever betrayed you, whoever got the ExtraOrdinary Wizard in your place, it is not my problem and I do not see a reason why you should be in the right. You cannot run into a random time and claim something back that never belonged to you or got taken away from you. It just does not work. If you were stupid enough to lose it in your lifetime it is your fault, but I am in the right right now, I am the provider." With every sentence, her voice gets louder and louder until it cracks. "That really is the limit! Breaks into the Wizard Tower, claims the amulet back that probably never even was his own and... I am speechless! In all those years in my position, no one ever has had the brass neck to do that!"

"Yes, but maybe I am in the right then?", the man screams back and looks at her with a wild look in his eyes. "Have you ever-"

"Stop it! Only because you are an insane nutcase, it does not prove you are in the right!" Now the flames in her hand flicker high up, he can sense her powerful Magyk. Waves of hate encounter each other, both of them feel them. Marcia breathes heavily, never in her life she has felt on the edge this much, and the man seems to fight with himself as well. Right now is the moment in which she should kill him. Right here, right now. But somehow she can't. The whole situation feels like a dream to her, so unreal, yet she knows that he could end her life as well, that she is in danger. If she kills him right now, who knows what will happen. Life is not a game where you have a second chance. If she only had a cool mind again... If she only was able to think clear again...

The man had his own idea of how to deal with this situation. First he stared at her hostilely, but there is not only hate inside of him. There is also something else... Something that exists next to his hate, next to his anger. Never has he been a man who stifles his feelings and intuition, in marked contrast to Marcia.

She lowers the sword and in the same moment, she shoots at him. Almost, but only almost, the spell hit him with all her anger and power, but thanks to his experience, the deadly shot bursts in the air.

Her scream resounds on the walls and it gives him the signal to act; within seconds, he is on his feet, away from her blade. She reacts fast, but not fast enough for him: He is able to grab her wrists and press her against the book shelf behind her. The force with which he whiplashes her against it causes several books to fall down on them, the sword falls with a clank to the ground. It is a wonder that neither of them gets dangerously hurt, the scratches and the thuds are nothing to speak of. As soon as Marcia catches her breath again, she spits him in the face. "Let go of me!", she hisses and yanks her wrists into a different position, in the hope of getting free. She knows that she is trapped, nothing will help her out of this misery, except a cool mind, a good idea and a surprising moment...

"Darling, I won't", he says in the honeyed soft voice. "Or otherwise, you will kill me." Her neck smells like the blossoms of the cherry tree that stood in his mother's backyard when he was little and her hair smells like his morning tea... His lips brush the skin of her neck which causes a shiver running down his spine. It is so soft, so vulnerable...

"What are you doing there, you pervert?", she growls and tries to tear away from him, but fails since he expected her to try it. "And good luck with stealing the amulet while having to hold my wrists."

"Oh, I found something which I want more than this stupid amulet.", he whispers into her ear and takes a deep breath in. "Something very appealing."

"You disgusting, repugnant-" But before she can finish her sentence he presses his lips on hers, stifles every further word she wanted to spit out. He takes what he wants and, in this case, it is her, the woman that will defeat his older me as a younger her. At first, she does not move, is unable to cope with what is happening, but suddenly, to his own surprise she kisses him back, with the same passion as he kisses her.

As she tries to wrap her arms around his neck, he releases her wrists and pulls her closer. She tastes not like he expected it, but wonderful; it reminds him of a perfect morning with toothpaste, a large cup of coffee and the sickly sweet jam you can import from the mainland.

Marcia whereas tastes the bitter flavour of blood, which, on one hand, disgusts her, but, on the other hand, turns her on a bit – God knows why, but she herself clearly does not want to know why – and she can taste... chocolate? What a mixture... It is her tongue which parts his lips, not the other way round, and it is her tongue which starts a gentle fight with his, not the other way round. Never has he expected that his try to get her into bed would work this easy, actually he expected that he would have to use force. She breathes louder during this making out session, how loud will she be when she lies beneath him, having him inside her?

She feels him growing hard against her, maybe this is the right moment? Slowly she turns around and slowly goes back a few steps until she nearly reaches her bureau. He follows her without stopping to kiss her, maybe she wants to be taken on the desk?

Marcia sees her chance, her last chance to get out of this situation, as she reaches over a small pile of books and grabs the cold handle of her paper-knife. It is not much and not very... effective, but it is better than nothing. And maybe he won't even realise what it is, as long as it is sharp enough and as long as she can place it on the fresh wound. As soon as she finds a good balance in her footing and gets him into a beneficial position she lifts the knife up and presses it against his Adam's apple, directly over the small scratch she inflicted with the sword.

"Away from me.", she spits and tries to sound as confident as possible, but due to her heavy breathing, she does not succeed entirely. One part of her is exhausted by the deep fear she has to overcome with every new second anew, the other part of her still has to recover from the intense kiss that she can still feel on her lips. It feels as if his hands are still on her shoulder blade and her lower back, holding her adamant and not too tender, and as if he still breathes against her, and as if he still has his tongue somewhere inside her mouth. Jesus Christ, what kind of day is this? Nothing feels like reality, but more like "a bad film", as the old saying goes. To whom does something like this happen? She has problems with understanding this situation, with understanding what is happening here and with knowing what to do now. Is he really standing in front of her? Does he really look at her with this look full of hate and passion? Did he really try to undertake the Wizard Tower violently? Waking up would be nice right now...

Like in a time lapse she sees him taking a few steps back, with his hands at the level of his shoulders. Does he really give up? Probably not, but it gives her time, precious time to think and to come up with a plan.

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?", he asks, breathless as she is and with this bloody grin again. "Or at least, you are torn if you should be disgusted or turned on by it."

She frowns at him, displeased by his words. God knows what applies, but one thing is clear: She does not know if she enjoyed it, if it disgusted her, if it turned her on or gave her any other feeling at all. "Was a little busy with fearing for my life, actually. And even now I have something better to think about than my not very often existing need for physical closeness."

"Let's make a deal: You do not kill me, I will not kill you, but in exchange for that you sleep with me. In the end, we go separate ways, I will stamp my attempt to gain the amulet back as failed and I will try it again on a later point in my life, but for now, both of us do not care about the question what will happen to the Wizard Tower and who will be in charge tomorrow morning."

Marcia, who has dealt with all kinds of people during her life and who has heard all kinds of weird ideas and suggestions during her career as the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, is confused by something SO irrational and SO odd. Can he be for real? It just... Does not make sense. Neither does it make any of them getting somewhere, nor does it work somehow else. But even if it would make sense, why should she trust him? "You give me your word.", she says, still staring and pointing the knife at him. "But it is not worth anything. You probably lie to me, you would kill me in the end or defeat me somehow different. This is the most illogical and... I do not have a word for it... thing in the whole goddamn world that I have ever heard and ever will hear."

"I understand your concern, but basically you would do it if you could trust me?" She can see the hunger in his eyes as he speaks and she fears it. What the hell is wrong with him?

Her own voice becomes half an octave higher than it is usually as she starts speaking again. "This is beyond discussion. This is neither a yes, nor a no because I do not like thinking about things that are impossible and will therefore never happen."

"Yes, okay, but let us think about it, just for a moment. If you trusted me, would you sleep with me?"

"Ahem, let me think... No. Never. No chance.", she spits and goes one step forward, her knife still holding it pointed at him in one hand. "I'd rather eat a rat for breakfast."

"Ah, because you are as pure and innocent as a dove?" This woman becomes more and more interesting to him. Her reactions tempt him, he likes women like her; women who are smart and have temperament, and do not chicken out when it matters. Even in this situation, she can still think and still act like she would under normal circumstances, she has her principles and that's what he likes. But he wants to win as well, so let's see how long she can resist.

She laughs a joyless laugh. "No, but because of two other reasons. Reason one: I am not a slut who goes to bed with any man that comes along for free and I am also not a prostitute who sleeps with a man for a consideration. Sleeping with someone has something to do with love, or, at least liking, not with an irrational agreement and being horny. Reason two: You disgust me. Even if it was about pure lust and not about feelings, then I would not sleep with you, because you simply disgust me."

As a reaction he does exactly what Marcia tends to do as well whenever she is not in agreement with an answer: He clicks with his tongue and raises his eyebrows, shows her his lack of zest for her words. "Why do I disgust you?"

"Oh, you should better ask what does not disgust me when it comes to you." Right now she wishes the knife was a gun; she'd only have to pull the trigger and all her current problems would fall to the ground, cold, lifeless, dead. "But if you really want to know it: It's your attitude, your morality, your blood thirst, just... everything."

"But if you reduce me to my body- "

"What I won't do!", she snaps and tries to think about a better plan how to get rid of him. The window is behind her, unfortunately, so blasting him out of it is not an option. Slowly her nerves are eaten up with fear, at least her body starts shaking and it becomes more and more difficult for her to hold the knife with a steady hand. Her fucking circulatory and nerves... Lately, it evolves into a real problem that they cause her so much trouble. Maybe Milo is right, she really works too much, but what does it help now? It is not very likely that she will survive this day.

"- you would get involved with me?" He does not care for her interjection, especially he sees her weaken sightly. She is not the youngest person anymore either, the job clearly exacts its toll, which boosts his chances, but her high level of life experience lowers it again. He knows that she will not break down, no matter what he will try, and he cannot win against her, for that she is too strong. Sleeping with her is his only chance, it is the only weakness of every human, even of a cautious and calculating woman like her. Underestimating her would be his end, but lulling her into a false sense of security could bring him victory and before that a bit fun.

She does not answer, but he can see the antipathy and her disbelief over this situation in her eyes, as well as the unspoken answer on his question. He sighs theatrically; he should have known it.

"See.", he begins again. A last soft try. "If we start again where you stopped us with a knife on my neck, you cannot lose and you cannot win anything but a bit fun. I will not force you after you decided to participate, I am not interested in raping you. But why letting the chance of a good and easy solution go? How stupid would that be if you are at least a bit willed to let me fuck you, but you decide to stay here forever. Someone will end up hurt and I know that you do not want to be hurt, which is very understandable, but you also do not want to hurt me yourself. Right now we are standing in an impasse, we cannot solve it rational, but if I offer a solution, why not grasping the opportunity by the forelock?"

"Well spoken, but I still do not trust you. What if you kill me somewhere in between?", she hisses. "It is utter madness!"

"How could I kill you in between without killing my own fun? I am only a man, not an extraordinarily brilliant murderer. And ever tried to think properly during a phase of ecstasy? It does not work, at least not for a man."

"Try to cosy me along, but I know it better." She laughs again, again without any joy. "I've dealt with so many ill-affected people in my life, I cannot be lulled by words."

But maybe with actions, he thinks as he takes two big steps towards her, wide enough away from the knife, and kisses her hard on her mouth. She saw it coming, he knows it, feels it, but she did not do anything against it, not even now. Ah yes, women and their talking and their primming. No new news to him, rather old ones. Again he tastes the tempting flavour of her lips again, so sweet, so soft. Right now they are his, she is his, he owns her in this very moment, besides she herself. He can feel the heat of her breath against his cheek and a hand that clutches the fabric of his shirt beneath his coat. Seems like she has no idea what to do now, if she should get herself into it or if she should stop it violently, but that's nothing he holds for very likely. After a few seconds which she needed to cope with the small shock, she starts nibbling on his lower lip, probably not knowing if she means it to be voluptuous or if she wants to bite him until he bleeds. The game is on and he loves it, he really does and he missed it. He barely ever has time for interpersonal things as an ExtraOrdinary Wizard as well, so this passion and disgust between him and another officeholder is simply... arousing, exciting, something he longed for quite a time now. Also, his older me would never admit it, but this woman is hot, is sexy, in her own weird way. She knows who she is and what she wants, maybe that's what attracts him like light attracts a moth. Although he enjoys the foreplay he does not want to wait too long until he buries himself deep inside of her, God, his hormones start to do the thinking. More or less ungently he pushes her against the desk where she has to absorb the collision with her hands, a surprised sound escapes her lips. Not for a single second, he breaks the kiss, instead he opens her lips to restart the game of their tongues again. Why not taking her on a table surface, in the middle of books and important documents and paperwork? Obviously, she gave her inner fight up, because now she kisses him back, hastily and with what seems to be unbridled hunger not for him, but for the coming up love-making. What a time to be alive.

In reality, Marcia really gave up, but out of tactical reason. If she keeps him busy he cannot murder her, and she believes at least one thing he said: That he will not kill his partner before or during a sexual act. For another assumption she can feel him too intense; the heat, his lust, his erection, simply everything. And there is another reason why she gets herself into it: If she can make them stay here, maybe if she can get onto the table or – even better – behind it, she can get a relict from the past out of the drawer: A gun, loaded with a bullet made of silver. She does not know for whom it was meant to be, maybe even for her heart, but although she swore that it will never be used again for its original use – killing someone – she does not see another way out. Actually, she only kept it for the purpose of reminding people of the dark past, since the palace plans to establish a museum for the history of the Castle. Jenna was too young to keep it and giving it someone else for retention? Rather not. The only problem she has: She only has one shot, this means only one chance, one try. Her fear pushes her nearer to him, she has to press herself against him to become a bit calmer and concentrated. Sure, in a way he is right: She enjoys sex, but Jesus Christ, she would prefer a man she loves and a situation in which she does not have the additional thrill of fearing for her life. She cannot distinguish if the feelings in her stomach are caused by lust or by fear and if her faster breathe is caused by lust or fear. It is horrible, but it makes it possible for her to play along and to get into it.

As she wraps one of her legs around his, he starts to kiss down towards her neck where he stays for a while. Oh God, not her neck... A silent moan escapes her lips.

This is not the loud breathing of a woman who is scared to death, it is the breathing of a woman who feels the sexual pleasure running through her. He can tell the reaction of a victim from the reaction of someone who enjoys, due to his many experiences with people who were about to die because of a spell, a weapon or who-knows-what. Also, rape victims react differently than deep-inside-slutty Madam Marcia Overstrand does, he knows it from what he has seen and heard of other men and their prey. Rape is nothing for him, it is a waste and something for lower humans. Isn't it much more fun to share the bed with a woman who actually enjoys what is done to her? A little resisting, a bit dissatisfaction, why not, as long as she gives up in the end and participates. Rape is not more than a physical fight and a simple in and out, while fucking someone with consent is art to him, something to enjoy, something that is created and not done.

It surprises him a bit that she reacts so positive and he is even more surprised when she removes his coat and starts unbuttoning his shirt. There we go! Her touches become greedier, her movements are not so classy anymore, as it is the case with him. His hands run up her upper legs, start to stroke her inner thighs. He is already half naked, why not undressing her too?

They start kissing each other on every inch they can reach, stripping down everything that is left on their bodies. Meanwhile, she actually sits on the table, with her hands placed on his back, her legs wrapped around his hips and her lips on his ones. He supports one hand on the surface of the desk, the other one lies on one of her soft breasts. Besides her neck, this seems to be one of the most sensitive parts of her body; he can feel her push through her back and breathing harder as long as he plays with this area. Even her skin tastes and smells delicious, she was the jackpot he did not expect. When he saw her the first time today, she seemed more like the prude, eccentric and boring kind of woman you usually meet in the politics, like the kind of woman who would never be wanted by a man. But Overstrand has temperament, has her seductive side, has her off-putting sides, has an appealing appearance. All in all, she is a good mix you would like to win and fuck, but would not want as your wife, out of several reasons.

Marcia meanwhile has grown to like the whole circumstances as well. Considering that she does not have a choice and has to do it, it is not bad at all. Her circle of exes has a manageable size, but still she has experienced much worse attempts to arouse her. Actually, what a shame that a shady nonentity is better in pleasing her than one of her former boyfriends who knew her and her sensitive spots for two years. She can feel his lips wander down from her lips to her other breast which causes her to moan with pleasure. Her eyes are closed, she only concentrates on what she can feel. Her own hands slide down on his body, slowly, because she wants to feel the physical structure of his body. You cannot say that he is ripped, Milo's body probably goes more into that direction, but you cannot say that he has a paunch either. A something in between, nothing that will knock somebody flying, but also nothing that would make somebody regretting their men choice. Nearly shyly her fingertips stroke over his erection, something she has not done in what seems to be decades, but are at least a few years in reality. Well, it is not something she really missed by itself, but in hindsight, she missed the reaction of the man. The frisson that goes through his body is perceptible by her senses, which amazes her every time again. But she is aware what she causes by such actions: he probably does not want to play around and wait any longer. That's what she dislikes on most men when it comes to sex: She could go on and on and on with the foreplay, because to her it is part of the act, but as soon as you give one little signal too much they are inside you faster than you can react. But as if she would care about it right now. The sooner she can lie down and grab the gun, the better.

She can feel his hand between her legs, probably checking if she is already wet enough. Jesus, although she is not 100% concentrated on it and although the last active remaining piece her mind rather does not want to sleep with him, her body has the needed urge, and it feels like as if she is already dripping. Suddenly she can feel his finger inside her, unexpected and surprisingly. She looks into his dark green eyes as he starts moving his forefinger inside her and his thumb on her clit. He brings her near to an orgasm, but as soon as he feels her body getting tense he pulls away. Well, if he is up to teasing, she can serve with the same. Her fingers don't touch him so shyly anymore, she knows exactly what she has to do to make him weak. That's the misery of men: It takes him a few minutes to make her nearly cum with his fingers, but if you know where and how to touch a man it's only a question of a few seconds until he begs one to stop. He seems to know exactly why she does it, because nearly immediately he stops to tease her with his fingers, although he really enjoyed her aroused moving under his touches. But why challenging her in the knowledge that she has the bigger chance to win. "Take me, or let it be.", she hisses into his ear and finally places her hands on his back again. "What a pity.", he mumbles under the kisses that he places on her neck. "Torturing you like this would have been fun."

"We talked about fucking and not about camping in my study. I do not have all eternity, and neither do you." The annoyance in her voice is nearly palpable and causes him to grin. She might not have the eternity, but he does. But if she cannot wait any longer he is alright with it. Actually, it turns him on, as well as the fact that her usually so political correct vocabulary seems to be gone and is finally replaced by a more dirty one. At least dirty by her standards. Again his hand finds its way down, but this time only for parting the lips of her pussy, and with one reckless push he is deep inside her, at last. The rapidity makes her gasp and he can hear her say something which he does not pay attention to. Did not seem to expect it to be like this, the little slut.

Marcia really has not been prepared for it. Well, she knew what was coming, but she did not think he would go in so fast and hard. "Dear god.", she moans, this time not only out of pleasure but also because of pain. There are more pleasant things to her than pain and rapidity, really. She has never been fucked in the way the word stands for it in her understanding; merciless sex, fast, and without any softness in it. Sure, rough sex is nothing new to her, and everything else would be a bit depressing, considering that her 40's are in sight, but sitting on a table, with her legs spread wider than she ever thought it is possible for her, being fucked by a complete stranger who moves faster and harder than anything she had expected? It takes her a few seconds to gather herself again, with her fingernails buried deep inside the skin of his back. With closed eyes and a nearly hyperventilating breathing rhythm she waits for the pain and the confusion to be gone, so she can finally enjoy the nearly involuntary and completely unexpected enjoyment of being taken by a man. Her plan to lean back and reach for the gun in the drawer is not possible to be accomplished at the moment, too much she is busy with finding herself again and with fighting against the feeling of getting lost in the sex. Since the last time of love making is awhile back, she has forgotten how sensitive and passionate her body reacts to having a man inside her. With every new push she gets more and more lost in the ecstasy, it feels so good, so wrong, so unpleasant, it is impossible to focus on her plan now. It is a pure overstimulation; the salty taste of his body, the nearly blurred view on the shelf, the smell and the feeling of the heat and the other body, his sounds next to her ear like the regularly gasps, the shaking of the bureau, and of course the feeling of getting nearer and nearer to her orgasm. Jesus, she is sure that the next man she will sleep with will have to deal with a bar that is set very, very, very high. Now that the pain had given way and pure pleasure has been taken its place instead, but still she is not able to reach for the gun. And right now she also does not want to reach for it, she rather enjoys being fucked, since she knows that it will end at one point, even though she does not want it to end. She can feel it in the way he moves; the pushes become deeper and longer, but he is still very fast. He must be near to his orgasm, as well she is. If someone would ask her, she would not be able to say if the sex lasted only a few seconds or for hours, which both is very unrealistic, but right now there is no in between for her. The level of her arousal is almost unbearable, can it get any higher? Where is the deliverance from the tense that built itself up deep inside her, where is the explosion of happiness hormones that gives the eagerly anticipated release? Where is the warm and calming feeling? And suddenly she falls over the edge with a long and audible breathe out. There is no description for the feeling of an orgasm, for the highest point of an ecstasy. Her fingernails stop scratching his back bleeding, her whole body falls back on the table, braked by his hands. But this time, it feels... different to what she already has experienced. Her orgasm does not die down completely as she expects it, she seems to stay on a certain high for quite a while. Her very fast breathing stops completely, she only lies there, calm, happy, stoked. In a weird way she cannot feel anything, but at the same time, she feels him still pushing in and out in the same rhythm as before. She is here, but at the same time, she is not, it feels just like as if her migraine knocked her out again, but this time without the pain, instead with the feeling of having done some strong drugs. She can feel his hands on her breasts, can feel his fingers stroke them, which takes her back to reality a bit. His touches lead her slowly back to her consciousness, although his movements inside her still stimulate her. She starts breathing again, very slowly and deep, still a bit lost in her orgasm. He comes deep inside of her, she can feel it, but does not worry about the consequences right now. It feels good, right in this moment. Like a final completion, as well as the noise he made while cuming.

As he pulls out her ability to think rationally comes back again and she is able to cast off the intense feelings of the sex which she would have made the most of under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances, she remembers. Slowly so she won't make him leery she reaches for the drawer and counts them down. One... Two... Three... This must be it. "You have no idea how lush it is to see my semen dripping out of your pussy.", she hears him say, but she does not answer him. Where is the goddamn thing? Suddenly she can feel the cold metal of the gun, she must have found its barrel. Her fingers grope for its butt. As soon as she has it, she laughs silently to let out her relief, but she has no idea how to sit up fluently and without having her circulatory fucking everything up.

"Do you know what makes me horny right now?", she asks to play out time. Carefully and half elegant she sits up, hiding the gun behind her back. She waits until he stands between her legs again, until his lips brush hers, until his hands are placed save on her thighs.

"Tell me.", he breathes and she can feel him shaking a bit.

With a very fast movement, she presses the gun against the side of his head, not giving him a single chance to react, let alone let him say any last words. Immediately she pulls the trigger while looking him directly into the eyes. As the report sounds, she screams, in shock of her own action. Instead of seeing the lights in his eyes going out, he comes to an end in the same second she shoots the bullet through his brain. The dead body falls to her feet, lifeless, but probably still warm. She presses her hand against her mouth to fight against the feeling of having to throw up, and the gun falls to the ground with a bang that seems to be louder than anything she has ever heard in her life. The man that she just slept with lies dead in front of her, killed by her own hands. Everything seems to be in a time lapse, because her brain does not understand yet. She stands up in a time lapse. She goes around the corpse in a time lapse. She picks up her clothes piece by piece in a time lapse. She dresses in a time lapse, even though her dress has blood stains now. She looks at his clothes that are spread over the floor, but one piece leaps to her eye. Her hearts begins to beat faster immediately, because she knows the symbols that are shown on a piece of fabric. A handkerchief in red with black stars on it. She kneels down, picks it up and presses it against her nose. The smell, she remembers it. The Vengeance. DomDaniel.


End file.
